


Spark Out

by LiegeOfSerpents



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Father-Son Relationship, Multi, Post-War, Psychological Trauma, Schizophrenia, War, nonbinary Pyro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26842570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiegeOfSerpents/pseuds/LiegeOfSerpents
Summary: Pyro goes on a day of lovingly setting everything they see aflame, until suddenly they stop hallucinating during battle. the blue and red team catch on about what had happened due to their expressed panic.
Relationships: Engineer/Pyro (Team Fortress 2), Engineer/Spy (Team Fortress 2), Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2), Pyro/Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please please PLEASE fell free to give me any criticism of my writing! this is my first ever written fanfic, and although I'm proud of it i understand there are some errors that I can't seem to notice, so please feel free to point them out. I'll be happy to clarify anything and even discuss with you. thank you.

do you believe in magic? 

That song rang out in the pyromaniac’s head comprehensible enough to understand the words, but vague enough to become pleasant background noise fit perfectly for their little mission. Like a cherry atop the world’s most delectable strawberry milkshake, the song was perfect enough for them to hum the tune as they skipped along by, using their beloved machine holstered to their back and handled in front of them to spread as much happiness as possible.

In a young girl’s heart, how the music can free her whenever it starts…

It was only fair, in their opinion, to share the happiness they were feeling now, with such beautiful scenery that could put a smile on even the grumpiest of men’s faces, most especially soldier’s. They always seemed to try to make soldier the happiest, as it was most difficult for pyro to achieve, but no matter. Spreading happiness was their duty, and they were certainly doing so excellently.

This was the same routine pyro has done for most of their life, and not one moment did they not enjoy every moment of every day where he could make his special people as happy as they have always been.

But unlike any other day, this one felt… different. It felt off for the pyromaniac.

Upon using their device, in the corner of their masked eye, something looked red. Not the soft red one would normally see on a giant lollipop or a floating gobstopper, but a threatening, deep red. Crimson.

The deep red splattered across a small area where the giggly scout stood; right next to their unicorn. They froze as they tried to analyze the clearly new situation to them, only then to head cautiously toward the nonmoving magical horse. Their entire body shook up, like a bolt of electricity shot through them as they looked at the corpse of the once cartoonish pony. The feeling was brutally familiar to them, but they couldn’t understand why.

A unicorn once seen split open in two by the abdomen now shown itself as a dead body of someone they recognized. A man of the opposing, blue team, not to the panicking pyro’s knowledge or care. They had never seen anything so… gruesome before.

They were going through the motions of immediately checking if he was okay, ignoring the initial disgust and confusion as to why the dead man was so big and non-baby like and covered in blood, when they heard the sound of a shotgun nearby. They sprang up, yelping, their head rapidly turning to see another grown man running up to them, with a weapon of his own. They didn’t have time or strength to think about helping the dead man up before running away.  


Running aimlessly away from the man with the gun, pyro’s only guide away from the sudden confusing danger was the sound of the shotgun firing near them. Shock filled their veins too much for even a sliver of opportunity to cry, nor breathe aside from small panicking huffs of exhales with each pace they took.  


Upon a momentary glance of panic, pyro caught a glimpse of the armed man’s face. They couldn’t recognize the body, but what they had noticed was the face belonged to the blue scout. Why was he chasing them? What did they do wrong? Pyro didn’t understand why not only the world around them had turned so violent, but one of their precious friends were turning on him as well. They had never felt so betrayed.

They didn’t know where to go, what to do, what was going on; all they could hear was the loud, sharp cries of injured comrades and bullets flying as they ran back to the one place where they felt was safe: the base. The lockers where they had kept everything they held so dear safe. But upon seeing the prized possessions of theirs, they soon realized that they were the same as the body: disgusting pieces of realistic disappointment. A few crumpled leaves and a chain they had initially thought to be shiny rock candy and wrappers of another sweet they were looking for. At least their stuffed animal looked the same, or at least… as close to the same as it could be. Clutching the battered toy with all their might, pyro took a moment to collapse onto the base floor and cry.  
.  
.  
.  
Elsewhere, somewhere less stricken of bloodshed from corner to trodden corner, a pent-up huff of breath escaped a man’s nostrils. Not a long moment had passed before the loud snap of a bullet leave the large gun holstered on the shoulder of the man who knew one skill, unusually, better than aiming at a distanced target and pulling the trigger: spying.

This skill honed well enough for him, not so much finding opportunities to go for his own kill as much as noting behavior of his opposing crew, and reporting it to his own team to let them plot and conjure what they would do next. His job was easier to accomplish, less risky than the typical spy who threatened revealing himself in the other team’s base, and it proved to be more useful, therefore.

Upon reloading his enhanced rifle, another noise came from the quiet sniper; a displeased growl powered by his low exhale that told only the slightest hint of curiosity. He had aimed for his target, this time being the red pyro, but something had seemed to make them snap from their initial cheery disposition. The movement of their joyful skipping had come to a sudden halt just early enough to save their life, and only the blue sniper was aware of this mistake.  


The sniper was no more frustrated at his misfire as he was confused at what had caused such a shift in motion. Quickly getting back to aiming his gun at the battlefield in search of the pyro, he eventually found the panicked mercenary, although with difficulty, and kept his eye close on them with his gun much closer. A look of bewilderment hit the man’s face, which soon turned into an expression of pleasant surprise as he watched the panicked pyromaniac return to their oh so secure base, and collapse onto their locker door.

It didn’t take the sniper long to realize that pyro had finally reached their breaking point, though whether it was because something in their delusionary reality that had caused them to panic, or if they had somehow stopped and realized the atrocities they had committed, he didn’t know. Either way, it was something to report to the rest of the team.

sniper wasn’t the only one who knew that pyro was not right in the head, but since his role in the team consisted of surveilling the opposing teammates, he was easily the first to notice. It didn’t take long for his crew to catch on with pyro’s senseless behavior, watching them skip around happily and hum a happy tune as they set aflame nearby buildings, which quickly resulted in becoming a subject of humorous conversation between the blue team, which of course wasn’t exclusionary to just pyro; the rest of the red team was subject to ridicule amongst their opposing team.

Sniper waited for the two teams to retreat to their bases before he made his move, something the blue team scorned him for most of the time unless he had something to show for it. He knew he would get his teammates off his back this time, nevertheless he hurried as quickly as he could back to his base.

“took you long enough, slowpoke,” scout spat halfheartedly as he sat back into the metal door of his locker, letting his skinny but lean legs relax a bit.

“shut yer trap, weasel,” it was evident that sniper’s heart wasn’t in the passion of building insults at the moment, which usually brought the crewmates’ attention because such behavior meant that he had something else on his mind. And what else would he have other than information?

“the reason why I was so late was because I’ve been keeping track of a particular schizophrenic menace.”

He could feel all eyes on him now, which was something he was used to but nothing that wouldn’t unsettle his nerves thanks to his occupation.

“so what’s wrong with the pyro, hm?” heavy inquired, setting aside his beloved gun so affectionately named Sasha so he could rest his hands in his lap.

“not sure, but some’in’s up with ‘em. Saw him freak out when he was being chased by scout.”

“haha, yeah. If he weren’t wearing a suit, I could say I scared the pants off him. It was hilarious seein’ him running around like a scared bunny ‘till he made it to the base,” scout chuckled, using his fingers atop the palm of his other hand to visualize how crazed pyro’s legs seemed to move around on the battlefield.

“well then, I guess you got a good representation on what we see with you every day, ya scoundrel,” sniper quipped, causing the fellow heavy and soldier to chuckle as they sat by their lockers, bystanding at the conversation. “but anyway, ye might need to keep an eye out on ‘em. I’m not sure if some’in’ happened that made him hallucinate bad, or stop hallucina’ing altogether, so I’m not sure if he’ll be more or less dangerous. Let’s just hope for the latter.”

“maybe we can send someone in to infiltrate the team and see if pyro’s still cuckoo,” soldier stated with very little thought in his mind other than seeing a shiny opportunity to dominate an opposing crew member.

“what? Soldier, do you realize how risky that can be?” sniper attempted to debunk soldier’s initial optimistic but dull minded plan. “besides, who can we possibly send to the other base that won’t get them killed instantly?”

“well, to be fair,” scout hesitantly mentioned, “heavy has had a huge problem with shooting people on his own team, somethin’ may be wrong with him. Maybe he needs a checkup with their team’s doc?”

If sniper didn’t keep any more of his own cool, his jaw would’ve dropped to the floor. “are you bloody kidding me, scout? That’s even more dangerous than sendin’ a spy! Not to mention the shame we have to admit ourselves to if we turn him in to that ratchet medic!”

Heavy scratched the back of his head, in a slow pace typical of his size. “maybe Heavy can go, If scout sees problem with me shooting wrong people.”

“what the-“ sniper stuttered, once again feeling the pressure on all eyes being on him. After a moment of shaking his head in panicked denial, he finally complied with the tremendously idiotic plan. “fine, I guess we can send heavy to the red base to get his head checked or some’in’.”

“heavy can write letter to tell them why team sent me,” heavy suggested.

“fine, right idea,” sniper nodded, scratching his chin in contemplation. “But you need to remember your goal: you’re supposed to tell us what’s going on with pyro and see if he’s any more dangerous than he was.”

“okay, sniper,” heavy nodded in response. “I’ll write letter now, then you can send heavy anytime you want.”

“you’ll be on your way as soon as you get the letter written,” soldier told him sharply, with a tone that would scare heavy’s soul if he weren’t exposed to years of even harsher treatment.

“okay,” heavy said calmly with a slight shudder to his breath.

As the rest of the team went about their day, cleaning themselves as best they could with only having access to hygienics they packed in their lockers, heavy began to write as best as he could in the finest handwriting he could manage, which proved to be difficult due to his large hands in comparison to the delicate fountain pen he kept on him. He exhaled through his nose the entirety of the writing as to not disturb his train of thought, though as much help as that was, it was still incredibly difficult for the heavy to focus. What should the letter say? He knew he’d have to keep his word choice as delicate as possible, for he knew he was risking his life by inviting himself into the other base. What to say in this letter…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my second chapter I've worked on before making an account, so please don't expect chapter updates this quickly. I'm only posting this out here as soon as I am because I'd, once again, love to hear criticism from those who want to spare some. thank you.

The red Medic was the first mercenary to arrive back to the base during the retreat, and it was evident that he could not catch enough of his own breath to gain his senses, for if he did he would have noticed the fellow mercenary not only had arrived much sooner than him, but had been in a continued state of hysteria.  


His breathing rapid, his ears ringing and his hands and arms numb from carrying the heavy weapon on his back, medic felt he could collapse and have the best sleep he ever had in a long while. That was, until it physically dawned on him the pain he had sustained in battle. The adrenaline shock was quickly wearing off, and soon he was in groaning pain.

He wasn’t the only man who had suffered severe injuries, although his were the most unbearable. As much as it was his job to heal others, He could not heal himself during battle, and that proved to be an obvious weakness for him. He was lucky enough that the blue team hadn’t caught on that he was by far the most defenseless of their targets.  


With a small rest to his legs and arms in the locker room of the base, it took little time to get his ears to stop ringing, which was an improvement. But with the lack of high-pitched noise came a slightly less high-pitched wail of a fellow mercenary. Lifting his head up after scruffing his black hair complemented with grey streaks in order to calm himself, he immediately recognized that this crying was coming from pyro.

The location of the noise was not the only indication; their shriveled and hunched demeanor that had never been displayed before as well as them shaking like the last leaf on a dying tree also meant terrible news. Once the medic, and the rest of the team, recovered from the lack of their physical senses, they tended to the pyro to figure out why they were in such a state of hysteria.

“pyro! Pyro, calm down!” the medic, as usual, was the most prominent of taking care of fellow mercenaries, and with engineer and spy staying back a ways away, both for different reasons but on the core subject of giving pyro space, and demoman being slow in reaction as usual due to his constant drinking, it was up to medic to diffuse the situation.

It was met with almost immediate failure, however, because in the moment that it seemed pyro’s eyes met with medic’s, they began to scream. Flailing their arms wildly, medic quickly pulled himself away in response, gasping in shock as he watched the helpless mercenary point their worn stuffed towards him toy like a weapon of some sort.  


Although engineer and spy did not initially interact in the situation, they observed carefully on what was happening, more with the intriguingly new behavior with pyro than the typical protocol medic executed with each of his close-up medical procedures. Engineer, not having the heart to bear witness this hurtful sight coming from a fellow teammate of his, decided to step in.

“outa the way, you’re scarin’ ‘em doc!” the engineer rushed the words out of his mouth without the typical stylistic thought or care he would normally put into his sentences, so that coupled with his southern accent, it was almost incomprehensible to the medic’s ears. 

Engineer pushed the doctor out of the way, his hand on the man’s shoulder with just enough force to let him know that he needed to get out of the way quickly for him to work his magic. He started by giving pyro enough space to feel comfortable, at least what engineer considered comfortable. He then kneeled to meet their height, which was somewhat of a necessity for him, for it was the only way he could see the other’s face, or at least their mask. His once panicked voice soon turned into a low, soothing tone as if he were beginning to sing a calming melody.

“hey, pyro, easy now. It’s me, you recognize me, yeah?” he tilted his head a bit to show curiosity and slight vulnerability to the other mercenary. 

Not another word was exchanged between, or to, the pyro and him, and the only noise that rang around the small room was pyro’s breathing. it was frantic, but it seemed to lessen in its frantic pace. Though, it was not due to what the others initially thought. Pyro had covered their eyes, which diverted them from the panic of an intimidating figure standing close before them, although the soothing voice did help them consider viewing what was going on in front of them.

Pyro, although hesitantly, lowered their arms from the sockets of their mask that allowed them to see. Their panic began once again upon the discovery of their reality no longer existing, which only heightened once their eyes met engineer’s posture. They backed themself into a corner of the locker room, and like a prey item upon refusing to confront their demise with the predator before them, they attempted to find an escape route.

Little time was wasted with finding a way to escape, a distance between engineer and medic proved to be a risky pathway to safety but to them, it was their only way. All it took for them was a little push, or rather a push against engineer to further the gap just enough to be a safe distance from medic if he potentially wanted to get a hold of them to prevent escape. 

They executed the plan with the skill that dared to parallel spy’s, taking every inch of opportunity to keep as far away from their threats as possible as they dashed into another, more isolated room. The same adrenaline rush they had experienced from the beginning of their hallucination loss as well as their chase with scout soon overcame them, causing them to once more panic and collapse against the wall of the windowless room, only further darkened by the lack of light emitted from the other rooms nearby. They were simply lucky that they had not tossed their stuffed toy during the escape.

The red team, or at least the crew members that had remained sober, stood in shock at the sudden turn of events that happened. Since spy was least affected, both from battle and from pyro’s sudden switch of personality, he figured it was his turn to deescalate the newfound problem.

“I think I’ll take care of this one. You all tend to yourselves while I work,” spy said rather flatly, the only fluctuation in his voice caused by the habitual speaking pattern of his French accent. Quickly tending to his job as promised, spy pressed a button on his golden watch, and once he confirmed himself that he was invisible, he headed to the location of the pyro. 

Engineer and medic were left dumbfounded at the situation, completely bewildered at pyro’s shift in attitude. The mercenary once characterized by their unbridled joy no matter what they did, at which this attitude admittedly rubbed off onto the other crewmates, was now a fear riddled animal, and no one knew why. Medic figured that pyro was very likely schizophrenic, and their obsession with fire was an obvious indicator of that as well as their childish demeanor, but what had caused the pyro to snap so suddenly the medic had no clue. He decided it would be best if he left the room, and head to his medical lab to contemplate. 

Engineer soon followed the same routine, this time heading to another room on his own to think, not about what caused this to happen to his fellow teammate, but about what he could do to calm them back down to a state of less panic, and hopefully get them back onto the battlefield once more. He felt that solving this problem would help medic a bit from his own troubles, but the main reason why he wanted to do this was because he couldn’t stand seeing a friend like this. 

It was in his nature to be as empathetic as he was; from where he came from and how he was raised to the lessons he had learned over the years, he had easily turned out to be a stereotypical southern sweetheart. This wasn’t to say that it hadn’t landed him in trouble, though, especially with his current job working for the administrator with the rest of his team. Since his job required bloodshed, and since he didn’t have the heart to kill another man directly, it was up to his machines to do the dirty work for him.

His behavior, due to his background, was often criticized for being a façade, also due in part to times he would snap at others. Though he didn’t do this often, when he did he was arguably more intimidating than heavy. Although at one point early in his life he did often fake his kind and humble demeanor, overtime his acts of generosity became more sincere. From his overbearing work to the lack of social time he had with anyone that wouldn’t be shot in the head upon five seconds of meeting them, he began to cherish what little friendships he had.

The demoman, however having seen what went on with pyro and the rest of his team, stayed quietly on his bench, chugging his arguably undeserved booze. It was cheap stuff, not that it was all he could afford, but it brought him the buzz much quicker than fancier, flavored stuff. Hell, if he had the opportunity to sneak into medic’s lab, he’d probably treat himself to the medicinal alcohol in the shelves. He took another swig of his beer, and blinked slowly when he heard a metallic knocking, coming from the entrance of the base. 

Groaning, he stumbled his way up to standing before slowly approaching the metallic barrier between him and whoever was knocking on the other side. He peeked through the window, but since his vision grew hazy due to the alcohol’s effects, the only got a glimpse of the large man waiting patiently near the door. He blinked in consideration, then burped rather loudly before opening the gate. He was immediately met with the heavy of the opposing team, standing as patient as ever and even a little timid. Demoman, now sobering up from his little swigs of booze, was as confused as he was frightened, but he didn’t say anything. He figured, if he were in any actual danger, he would be dead in seconds when confronted by the heavy, so he remained calm but cautious.

“ey, what’s got you bein’ sent ‘ere?” demoman muttered, loud enough for the heavy to hear but just slurred enough to make it seem incomprehensible. He was just lucky that everyone he knew was used to his way of speaking.

“heavy is here to see doctor. I have letter, if you want to look,” heavy said, handing the demoman a letter with his own neat handwriting the only proved he had years of experience with such an art.

Demoman looked at the letter, not that he was able to read any of it due to his impaired vision, and looked back up at heavy. Though he still couldn’t tell if heavy was telling the truth or not, he did notice something odd: heavy didn’t bring his weapon. If he and his team somehow had a mischievous plan to infiltrate something in the red base by sending one of their crewmates as a distraction, they certainly didn’t have the brightest idea of sending one of their mercenaries to the opposing base without a weapon.

After a moment of thinking as hard as he possibly could given his wilting drunken state, demoman decided to let him in. he moved out of the way for the man to get in, and hesitantly guided him from behind to make sure he wasn’t carrying any weapons.

“I’ll take ye to the,” he hesitated for a moment, contemplating with all his might on what he would say next. “medic’s lab, ‘e’ll take care of ye.”

“well, uh,” heavy paused for a moment, bewildered at how compliant the demoman was with allowing an opposing mercenary into their base, but soon accepted his situation. “thank you. Heavy promise to not hurt anyone, just need checkup.”

“yeah, I believe ye,” demoman chuckled to himself. “I’d’ve been torn to shreds by that machine gun o’ yers if ye actually wanted to. She uh, got a name? the gun, I think she's got a name.”

“it’s, Sasha,” heavy replied, looking back at the drunken man guiding him. “are you sure your team is okay with me here?”

“they’ll be soon, I’ll explain everythin’,” demoman replied, waving the letter already covered in beer stains from his hand around. “they trust me.”

They didn’t.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay I need to mention two things. One, I know jack diddly squat about the tf2 comic lore, so please excuse the fuzziness in the next few chapters about what goes on, and yes I am doing research on the lore but it's confusing to me at the moment. two, I deleted my previous attempt at chapter 3 since I felt it was too short, so instead I'm making this one too long. my minimum is going to be about two or three scenes per chapter, but that may go up as I keep writing. thank you for your patience.

It was an odd task, but nevertheless an easy one for the spy, or so he thought. normally his job involved some form of bribery and ending up with someone’s life cut short, hardly ever being paid to retrieve information from some places confidential although it wasn’t a task he was excluded from. No task of his involved emotional distress or anything personal of any kind, and for good reason. He always figured that because his teammates kept to themselves, they wouldn’t need any form of help from him, and even if they did, he would be the last person to go to.

This was fine by him, as he knew his fellow mercenaries were fairly independent. And it seemed understandable that a spy like him couldn’t be trusted, even one on their own team. He was seen as a literal backstabber, a snake in the grass just moments away from a clean kill for the sake of money. He was an emotionless, cold and deadly reptilian of a man. 

This was rather the polar opposite of who he truly was, but his clever means of keeping a constant front of invulnerability made him an expert in his art. Underneath his metaphorical and intensely convincing mask lie a man born of true empathy, a lonely heart waiting to find a perfect other to enrapture in the love he could easily offer. He was not a cold-hearted soul, just an empty one.

He had once made the mistake of taking off this mask of personality years ago, toward a particular woman he adored greatly. Such vulnerability he had showed to this beloved woman was a gem of time that even she did not fully understand the value of, which was why, in part, it was such a fault of his own to give her such a precious gift. Though he had truly loved her, as their relationship had progressed, he felt as if they were less meant to be, and more that he had made a grave mistake.

Once he had made the decision to erase such a mistake, it had already been too late. She had announced to him that she was about to have a child; his child. He wasn’t sure what emotions stirred up inside him upon the information given; whether it encouraged him to leave her faster or conflicted his motives to leave her in the first place, but all he was aware of was that it was the most heart wrenching news he had received. Nevertheless, with a rushed but genuine cry of goodbye, he had left her in the dust of his past.

He knew he would have to forget her, forget every part of him that made himself sensitive to the thought of her, but no matter how much he smoked, how much quiet time he spent to himself to think, how many bottles of wine he even drank at one point, nothing could wash away the guilt he felt for leaving her behind. He had convinced himself that it was for the best, not just for himself but for her and her kid. A loved one undefended could easily be a target for bribery, or at worst could be killed off as some petty warning that the rich assholes he associated with always did to one another, and he knew he couldn’t have the time to defend himself if he ever got caught, let alone a family. 

But that was only a half truth, a mental tactic he used to better mask himself. It was a much better method than what the demoman seemed to use, drinking his brains out until he was almost as useless as scrap metal in battle. Though as harmless as he was in battle, he made for very humorous conversation, so it seemed.

The spy knew of this, not because he had talked with the mercenaries much, if at all, but because he was an excellent eavesdropper. He was known to keep to himself, sneaking away into his smoking room at any free chance he had and barely speaking to his teammates, but what was little known was that he had grown so used to isolation that he had a tendency to spy on his own colleagues, turning invisible and hearing them gossip about nearly anything.

medic mostly talking about recent procedures he had done that either sent shivers down the spines of those who listened, or sent them to a loud sleep, demoman rambling belligerently about anything emotional that came to mind as he grew completely unhinged with each sip of beer he took, and engineer being the more humble of his team, listening in just as much as spy did. Not nearly a word came out of the engineer during conversation, which was quite peculiar in spy’s opinion. He had never shared such a trait so closely with someone else before, let alone a crewmate.

As for pyro, they seemed to talk in their language. It was intriguing to him, humorous even. It appeared that the more it amused the other crewmates, the more they would do it, an endless cycle of a perfect example on what the pyro did for the team other than setting nearly everything on fire. The team had fed into their thought that they were spreading joy with everything they did, which was part of why their hallucinations never stopped. Their fantasy had mended so close with reality that the two had become permanent, stuck like glue.

Spy quietly escaped into the much darker part of the base, where he would find the pyro in the corner of the dimly lit room, shaking like a leaf and clinging to their one piece of happiness left for their dear life. It was a sad sight to see, especially for someone as caring at heart as the spy, but he had to keep his head in the right place, and not let his heart cling onto the nearest person seeking affection, much like what had caused him trouble previously. He reminded himself that all this was to him was a simple task, nothing more and only different. He needed to calm a person down and get them back on the battlefield, not at all personal.

He approached the pyro, not that they could see him due to his invisibility cloak as well as how dimly lit the room was, so whatever colorful aura emanated from his cloak was washed out by the darkness of the room, only lit by the half-moon in the sky. He was slow in his movements anyway, as to not startle them with any sudden footsteps, which seemed to pan out in his favor, as it seemed his subject grew less trembly, either more tired of their unwanted surge of panic or more curious as to what was making the noise. Maybe it was familiar to them?

Spy had kneeled in front of the pyro, who had their head more upwards out of alarm of some sort. They seemed to act like some sort of rodent, a fear-stricken mammal ready to run at any second anyone even saw them. It was not a sight that spy was not familiar with, but for some reason it rang a different tune in his chest. Something didn’t feel right about pyro’s emotions, something inside him was beginning to tell him that he should have more than a practical reason to fix whatever had troubled them.

Spy fought off these emotions for now, and carefully but quickly began forming a plan. Maybe just a low whisper to announce his presence wouldn’t send them into a chase again. Spy pondered for a moment, and he knew that although it was a risky move, there was merit to this strategy. A big factor in what had caused their scare was the multiple people that surrounded them, so maybe hearing a voice wouldn’t startle them as much.

“pyro,” he muttered, in the kindest voice he could work up without feeling conflicted in his motives. The non-verbal voice in his head insisted that there was another reason why he was so delicate, so careful with the way he treated pyro. He was empty, and pyro was a new opportunity to fill that hole that he had torn himself.

In a great stroke of luck, the pyro seemed to respond to his word. “h-huh?” vocalization was an improvement worth celebrating, though their voice still shook like they were tossed in a broken washing machine.

“do you understand me? We’re not going to hurt you.” He moved closer, letting both himself notice any subtle changes that would hint at any hysteria, and pyro be able to hear his voice easier.

The whispering seemed to help pyro, or at least enable their voice to stop trembling as frequently. “we?” 

Spy paused, then shook his head. “no, there’s no we right now. Just me. Just you and me. Can you tell me what happened, pyro?”

The other mercenary paused, then turned their body to the side, leaning against the wall of he room before quietly sobbing. They responded, but it was mostly a jumbled mess of words, which was only worsened due to the muffling of their mask. Spy immediately noticed that something had changed for the worse for them, because even though their speech was incomprehensible, it seemed to have improved drastically in comparison to previous, well, ‘conversations’ they had with the other mercenaries.

“pyro, please,” he begged quietly, threatening to place a hand on their shoulder, but decided against it. “you’ll be alright. No one will hurt you, whatever you saw out there can’t hurt you here.”

The two took a moment of silence, an opportunity for pyro to calm down a bit thanks to spy’s vague reassurance and for spy to contemplate his next move. Just a task or him, and a problem for them to solve.

“pyro, what did you see?” his voice grew a little louder, a sign that he was lowering the boundaries for them to help them recover a bit quicker. 

Pyro’s response was once again incomprehensible, but some key words seemed important to the subject at hand. Deep red, loud noise and an enemy chasing them. 

“do you… not see that every day, pyro? Every time we are sent out to fight, do you not see those sorts of things?”

Pyro’s words were once again a mess of a sentence, but it was clear spy had struck a nerve due to their fast pacing and more shallow breathing. even fewer words were recognizable, just the phrase “no fight” being understood. Ah, so it made sense now. Not only did the team’s suspicions of pyro having severe hallucinations hold true, but something must have happened that caused them to stop.

Something slipped out of the spy’s mouth that would make him punch himself later on. “oh, you poor thing, pyro…”

Spy’s empathy seemed to seep into the soul of the pyro, as once they heard those words they only began to sob louder. Their head shriveled up into their knees, their arms covering their neck, and their whole body once again trembling at their own outburst of emotions made spy just feel sorry for them. He bit his lip out of worry of his next thought, so stupid yet made so much sense. Maybe vulnerability was what was needed in this situation, to complete the task at the very least.

Spy hesitantly uncloaked himself, making sure the pyro didn’t notice a thing, and he gently placed a hand on the mercenary’s back. He felt a flinch, which prompted a comforting “shh…” to escape his lips. He rubbed their back slowly, and moved himself closer to bring them into a slow and predictable hug, until the pyro made a move that made even the spy gasp.

Pyro had very quickly moved toward the kneeling spy, almost lunging forward to embrace the other. An unpredictable move for spy, and it certainly seemed to be an unplanned one on pyro’s part. Clinging as tightly as they could considering their shaken disposition, the spy lifted his arms up, and hesitated a moment to wait and see if pyro had any other tricks they wanted to pull. A few seconds later, when he felt safe enough to be hugged by the mercenary, he gently placed his arms on the back of the mercenary, this time a bit more comfortable for them. Vulnerability was most definitely needed in this moment.  
.  
.  
.  
“you did vhat?” 

The medic almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A member of his team willingly allowed one of the most dangerous mercenaries of the opposing team into their base. His gloved fingers intermingled with his own head of hair, his eyebrows pushing themselves into a furrow as he gripped a lock of his hair, ready to pull it out at any second. He knew the demoman was drunk, but how could he be THIS idiotic? Did he somehow buy a new brand of cheap beer that killed his brain cells faster than they should?

“oh, git yer pretty lil’ trench coat out of a twist, ‘e’s fine,” demoman exaggeratedly, and therefore ineffectively, reassured the medic. “’e’s written a letter explainin’ everythin’.” He waved the booze-soaked paper around aimlessly, hoping the medic would catch it eventually.

The medic forcibly grabbed the demoman’s wrist, keeping him in a startled state only for a second, and tore the paper from his already weak grip. He sighed, and hesitantly looked at the letter, adjusting his glasses to read the letter. It was surprisingly neat handwriting, enough to make the medic wonder who had written it. Whoever did, he figured, clearly took their time with the amount of detail put into the intricate details of each letter. Aside from the disappointment towards the demoman, he was frankly impressed.

the medic read the letter aloud, though it was a bit of a mumble. “RED team, I am aware that you might have suspicions about me coming in your base, and I understand. I am just here because I need a check up according to my team, because I have apparently had a problem with shooting people on my team. I hope you understand my problem, and I hope you will fix it.”

The letter was brief, some things were scribbled due to the utensil being a pen and therefore it was impossible to erase mistakes, but whoever wrote this, which was assumed to be the heavy, seemed to be in a genuine predicament. He contemplated for a moment, reading the letter over again, until he realized that demo was still in his operating room.

“get out, demoman. Keep an eye on zhat mercenary before he goes off killing anyvone,” medic sneered. Despite the demoman being incredibly hammered, medic’s ice-cold demeanor made him shudder. The alcohol might have saved his life, if looks could kill.

“ah, funny ye mention that, doc. ‘e doesn’t have any weapons on ‘em,” the demoman chuckled, taking another swig of his beer.

In a fit of rage, the medic grabbed the half empty bottle in the demoman’s possession, and slammed it onto the ground. He pointed at the door and began to scream to get his message across. “Get zhe hell out of my office, dummkopf!”

“alright, I’m leavin’!” demoman exclaimed, his hands in front of his face to protect himself from the verbal attack. He stumbled his way out of the office, medic’s pointing towards it oddly enough being helpful for the man, and left.

The heavy, patiently waiting outside, nervously looked over at the drunken man standing, although barely, before him. He had his hands cupping each other, and his eyes curiously widened as he heard what had happened in the other room. He was terrified of the doctor, but he was sure his stress was due to the obvious irresponsibility that could have cost the entire team’s lives.

“so what happens now?”

“it’ll take ‘em a moment to get ‘emself calm, then ‘e’ll call ye in. don’t worry ‘bout it too much lad.”

Five minutes had passed, and demoman had already left to get himself a new bottle of booze for himself, and only half promised heavy a beer upon his return. “if yer still waitin’ for the doc, which I doubt’ll happen,” he said.

Medic let out a long sigh, his hands gripping his face to relax himself. “I can’t believe I’m doing zhis,” he mumbled to himself before opening the door, peeking his head outside. To no surprise, the demoman wasn’t there, but to his pleasant surprise the heavy was, waiting patiently outside for his check-up. He admittedly felt more relieved that the other team’s mercenary was more civilized than expected. It made him believe his intentions truly were pure. Although he considered declining him a check-up, since it would only benefit the opposing team since they would no longer be shot at by the most menacing crew member of the force, the overwhelming desire to have yet another guinea pig to experiment on was too temping for him to resist.

“um, herr heavy, you can come in now. And excuse zhe mess. I’m not sure if you heard from outside my operating room, but a certain mercenary and I had a little… discussion, let’s say.”

Heavy turned his head cautiously, a little less intimidated by the medic’s stature. “is no problem, doctor.”


End file.
